I feel like I'm holding a periscope- I can finally see, or at least peek, around the next corner! That's exciting and glaringly soon.
This new landscape in view is temptingly tangible and demands that I organize practical things. Parfait! that's what I like to do. And yet, I've just come through some intangible and difficult-to-summarize experiences in the Congo. The challenge for me this month will be to turn that periscope around...
*Editor's note: Dragonfly has always wanted a periscope. If any readers know how to make one, feel free to inform the blogger.
Voilá
Is it possible to "expect the unexpected"? To me that phrase grasps at the mystery of trusting in/living into God's Presence in the world. I feel like I am on the crest of a wave that might be full of those mysteries.
Monday of this week found me making myself finally at home again~ baking whole wheat bread (scarce in Moz and DRC), squeezing fresh lemonade, washing clothes, receiving friends~ an ideal welcome home. I was settling mentally in for a nebulous month of discernment and deliberating and decision-making. And then the phone rang.
The aid organization for whom I'd interviewed in February was calling to offer me a post in Niger for half a year, working in malnutrition. This took me very much by surprise for I had been planning to put my application on hold because my French is not up to full speed.
But they beat me to the punch; they've decided to take a risk on me, if I'm ready to risk language immersion. The fact that the placement has few security risks, makes this possible. The short story is that within 24 hours, I said yes and within 24 more, they confirmed it. So much for a foggy August! This next step came bursting into focus with a "take it" or "leave it" choice. I took it.
A friend once gave me a quote that I keep on my mirror: When you come to a fork in the road...take it. (Yogi Berra) The decision was not made that randomly, but the spirit of carpe diem is there. The cummulative processing/praying/exploring done with my community these last months came to rest on that moment. The recruiter declined my request for extra time to consider and I had to decide. Voilá! I'm off to Niger.
*Editor's note: The accent over the a in the title should be slanted instead to the left. I can't find the keyboard shortcut for that one. Please pardon my French.*
Monday of this week found me making myself finally at home again~ baking whole wheat bread (scarce in Moz and DRC), squeezing fresh lemonade, washing clothes, receiving friends~ an ideal welcome home. I was settling mentally in for a nebulous month of discernment and deliberating and decision-making. And then the phone rang.
The aid organization for whom I'd interviewed in February was calling to offer me a post in Niger for half a year, working in malnutrition. This took me very much by surprise for I had been planning to put my application on hold because my French is not up to full speed.
But they beat me to the punch; they've decided to take a risk on me, if I'm ready to risk language immersion. The fact that the placement has few security risks, makes this possible. The short story is that within 24 hours, I said yes and within 24 more, they confirmed it. So much for a foggy August! This next step came bursting into focus with a "take it" or "leave it" choice. I took it.
A friend once gave me a quote that I keep on my mirror: When you come to a fork in the road...take it. (Yogi Berra) The decision was not made that randomly, but the spirit of carpe diem is there. The cummulative processing/praying/exploring done with my community these last months came to rest on that moment. The recruiter declined my request for extra time to consider and I had to decide. Voilá! I'm off to Niger.
*Editor's note: The accent over the a in the title should be slanted instead to the left. I can't find the keyboard shortcut for that one. Please pardon my French.*
Marriage
He's gone and done it. My twin and only brother got married this week. Look how beautiful they are! We had one shot at a sister-in-law and I'd say we've done real well :). Welcome to the family, Anita.
Sibs
My sisters and I
Congrats, Dave!
The clan.Locator
It's a small world after all. If anyone wants to locate where I was in the Democratic Republic of Congo, you can see a satellite image by typing Kajiji (the village) or Kinshasa (the capital) into "Google Earth". If you don't zoom in too closely, you can see the lay of the land and the plateau of Kajiji.
Landing
I've been landing since Monday. The air was choppy over DC and not a little scary to float a big plane through, but we made it down alive. Since then I've hardly spent an hour in my little rented room other than sleeping for a few.
Actually, I've had the rare treat of spending most hours with my blood family, celebrating the marriage of my only brother. There were about 9 hours where all 12 of us were in the same place- the first time in years...and now there are 13 of us.
So I've been landing slowly- spending time in Kinshasa (Congo's capital city) after leaving Kajiji; spending a few days in London after leaving Kinshasa; spending a night with sibs after landing in D.C., and now spending time in Pennsylvania after the wedding, reunioning with extended relatives. It has been such a gift to be with my parents and sisters and their husbands and kids.
Yet I am not yet grounded until I've spent time in the presence of my friends...and that I am eager to do. The people who have prayed for and wondered about me, encouraged me and listened, and kept the home fires ablaze and dreams alive--these next few weeks are dedicated to you.
Following are some pix of my travel modes in the last month. The above picture is the little Cessna that flew us to Kajiji.
A boat to the coast of the Indian Ocean in Mozambique:
A drive through a game park in Moz (stay in the vehicle!):
Traffic in Kinshasa:
Kenyan Airways (super service!):
Walking to the Kwenge river with Congolese colleagues:
All in a day's walk:
Café Village
Tired of processed foods? Come to DR Congo!
On the village menu:
Fresh water eels- dried and skewered
Bush rat- also skewered
Caterpillars- easy to harvest from burned trees, crawling out of the pot or dried from last season
Grubs- fat and juicy as a small cucumber, but more wiggly
Bird- freshly struck by passing motorcycle
Chicken foot- be prepared to crunch and chew and block out your knowledge of anatomy (see photo)
Gazelle- size of tiny deer, the prize of a happy hunter
All foods on our menu are locally grown, free-range, no pesticides, no antibiotics, no artificial coloring or preservatives.
Homegrown and hand-picked!
All dishes served with a side of fufu (thick paste made from manioc root) or rice, and greens.
Inquire in person for more menu options. Dishes served all day long.
Bon Appétit!
On the village menu:
Fresh water eels- dried and skewered
Bush rat- also skewered
Caterpillars- easy to harvest from burned trees, crawling out of the pot or dried from last season
Grubs- fat and juicy as a small cucumber, but more wiggly
Bird- freshly struck by passing motorcycle
Chicken foot- be prepared to crunch and chew and block out your knowledge of anatomy (see photo)
Gazelle- size of tiny deer, the prize of a happy hunter
All foods on our menu are locally grown, free-range, no pesticides, no antibiotics, no artificial coloring or preservatives.
Homegrown and hand-picked!
All dishes served with a side of fufu (thick paste made from manioc root) or rice, and greens.
Inquire in person for more menu options. Dishes served all day long.
Bon Appétit!
Experiential Education
Okay, one more post.
Yesterday I racked up another memorable embarrassing moment. We made an excursion to a textile store where one can buy the ubiquitous patterned and colorful African cloth.
That morning I had bucket-washed my clothes, so with a limited wardrobe, I had decided to sport the “kapilana” I had purchased in Mozambique. I proudly wrapped the zany fabric around my lower half, tucking and twisting as my housemate in the U.S. had explained to me (she taught school in Congo in the 70’s). I sent myself to breakfast with a pat on the back for so naturally assimilating to my surroundings already on Day 2.
Well, as these wrap skirts go, they need adjusting as the day and activities unfold (pardon the pun) so by the time we reached the fabric store, I may not have presented in, well, exactly tip-top shape. But hey- give me a chance- I’m a Muzungu fresh off the plane.
In the almost empty fabric showroom, I noticed that our driver, a burly Congolese male, summon Angela, our Colombian friend who was also fluent in French to come over to the front desk where he was waiting for us…and I went back to browsing. Suddenly the sound of my own name split my reverie. It was Angela coming my way, bearing algun mensaje para mi.
Welcome to the Congo, Hannah. Angela informed me that the attendants at the front desk were all worried that my “pania” (the name they give the wrap skirt in DRC) was going to fall off as I walked around the store! I had obviously wrapped it wrongly. So they told our driver in whatever language, probably Lingala or Chokwe, who told Angela in French, who told me in Spanish that I need to fix my pania!
I was so embarrassed, but ironically, my pania felt just fine and I knew it wasn’t going to fall down. Besides, I’d thought of that and worn a second layer. What was I to do anyway, in a big open showroom of fabrics and attendants standing around watching?!
In the end, I tried to discreetly adjust my skirt and they sold me the cloth I’d picked out, probably hoping that I’d have some help next time I dressed myself and left the house.
Back at the guesthouse we had some big laughs about it. A young Congolese woman gave me a thorough Pania lesson 101 all in French. I quickly saw that in every single principle of the wrapping process, I had done it the opposite way. I could see now how I must have looked like such a goon!
Hurrah for Experiential Education.
(Here’s to you, Corinna)
Yesterday I racked up another memorable embarrassing moment. We made an excursion to a textile store where one can buy the ubiquitous patterned and colorful African cloth.
That morning I had bucket-washed my clothes, so with a limited wardrobe, I had decided to sport the “kapilana” I had purchased in Mozambique. I proudly wrapped the zany fabric around my lower half, tucking and twisting as my housemate in the U.S. had explained to me (she taught school in Congo in the 70’s). I sent myself to breakfast with a pat on the back for so naturally assimilating to my surroundings already on Day 2.
Well, as these wrap skirts go, they need adjusting as the day and activities unfold (pardon the pun) so by the time we reached the fabric store, I may not have presented in, well, exactly tip-top shape. But hey- give me a chance- I’m a Muzungu fresh off the plane.
In the almost empty fabric showroom, I noticed that our driver, a burly Congolese male, summon Angela, our Colombian friend who was also fluent in French to come over to the front desk where he was waiting for us…and I went back to browsing. Suddenly the sound of my own name split my reverie. It was Angela coming my way, bearing algun mensaje para mi.
Welcome to the Congo, Hannah. Angela informed me that the attendants at the front desk were all worried that my “pania” (the name they give the wrap skirt in DRC) was going to fall off as I walked around the store! I had obviously wrapped it wrongly. So they told our driver in whatever language, probably Lingala or Chokwe, who told Angela in French, who told me in Spanish that I need to fix my pania!
I was so embarrassed, but ironically, my pania felt just fine and I knew it wasn’t going to fall down. Besides, I’d thought of that and worn a second layer. What was I to do anyway, in a big open showroom of fabrics and attendants standing around watching?!
In the end, I tried to discreetly adjust my skirt and they sold me the cloth I’d picked out, probably hoping that I’d have some help next time I dressed myself and left the house.
Back at the guesthouse we had some big laughs about it. A young Congolese woman gave me a thorough Pania lesson 101 all in French. I quickly saw that in every single principle of the wrapping process, I had done it the opposite way. I could see now how I must have looked like such a goon!
Hurrah for Experiential Education.
(Here’s to you, Corinna)
Lingala
I think that "Lingala" should be defined as: A variety or plethura of languages. Doesn't it sound like it?
Actually, it is one of four national languages in DR Congo besides the official language of French. In the past week, I have put to use the little I know of English, Portuguese, Spanish, Sign Language, and French. This is certainly not to brag, considering that most of the people I meet these days (besides Americans) speak that many languages fluently with or without any formal education. Our driver in Kenya spoke not 5 but 10. He also informed me that Safari means "journey" (see previous post).
I enjoy the atmosphere of multiple languages. It seems to open up the expanse and possibilities and foibles of communication. It's fun and connects all kinds of people. We made a friend here at the Guesthouse in Kinshasa who is bilingual in Fench and Spanish. Perfect! My brain got an outlet for the Spanish that keeps clogging my head, we had an interpreter and she had an English teacher. Between four of us, we were doing three-way-interpreting-teamwork for our errands and visit to the market.
As you fellow bloggers know, there are many more 'posts' that could be written, many of which are lying on the stack of "drafts" in my head. But for now, I want to be present here where I am, which is really a short time. Trying to absorb it all and transpose the stories into words I'll save perhaps for later.
So for tonight, I'll post the update that I am safely in Kinshasa, DR Congo, in good company, and contentedly so. In 2 days, another teammate and I will fly by small plane to Kajiji which is a long-established mission station in a rural community in southeastern Congo, near the border with Angola. A nearby town you could find on a map is "Kahemba".
We will join others at the guesthouse there at the station where there is a hospital, a school and a church which were started by the MB (Mennonite Brethren) missionaries back in the 1930's. We will make time to get to know families there and work with colleagues in the hospital. I will be collecting some data at the nursing school nearby and we hope to tag along on some public health outings (by motorcycle- woohoo!) to nearby communities.
*Note for anyone concerned re: safety, even though the reports of DRC's history that make it out to the broader world have been brutal and staggering, many communities have actually not been ravaged by that violence and Kajiji is one of those. This is a very large country.
That's all I know for now.
In Kajiji, there are no cars, no internet, no phone (Ah! what blessed quiet...) so I'll see you on the other side.
Salut!
Actually, it is one of four national languages in DR Congo besides the official language of French. In the past week, I have put to use the little I know of English, Portuguese, Spanish, Sign Language, and French. This is certainly not to brag, considering that most of the people I meet these days (besides Americans) speak that many languages fluently with or without any formal education. Our driver in Kenya spoke not 5 but 10. He also informed me that Safari means "journey" (see previous post).
I enjoy the atmosphere of multiple languages. It seems to open up the expanse and possibilities and foibles of communication. It's fun and connects all kinds of people. We made a friend here at the Guesthouse in Kinshasa who is bilingual in Fench and Spanish. Perfect! My brain got an outlet for the Spanish that keeps clogging my head, we had an interpreter and she had an English teacher. Between four of us, we were doing three-way-interpreting-teamwork for our errands and visit to the market.
As you fellow bloggers know, there are many more 'posts' that could be written, many of which are lying on the stack of "drafts" in my head. But for now, I want to be present here where I am, which is really a short time. Trying to absorb it all and transpose the stories into words I'll save perhaps for later.
So for tonight, I'll post the update that I am safely in Kinshasa, DR Congo, in good company, and contentedly so. In 2 days, another teammate and I will fly by small plane to Kajiji which is a long-established mission station in a rural community in southeastern Congo, near the border with Angola. A nearby town you could find on a map is "Kahemba".
We will join others at the guesthouse there at the station where there is a hospital, a school and a church which were started by the MB (Mennonite Brethren) missionaries back in the 1930's. We will make time to get to know families there and work with colleagues in the hospital. I will be collecting some data at the nursing school nearby and we hope to tag along on some public health outings (by motorcycle- woohoo!) to nearby communities.
*Note for anyone concerned re: safety, even though the reports of DRC's history that make it out to the broader world have been brutal and staggering, many communities have actually not been ravaged by that violence and Kajiji is one of those. This is a very large country.
That's all I know for now.
In Kajiji, there are no cars, no internet, no phone (Ah! what blessed quiet...) so I'll see you on the other side.
Salut!
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